


The Night Shift

by ParadoxR



Series: The 52nd Hour [3]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s01e01 Children of the Gods (1), F/M, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Relationship, Season/Series 01, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2036691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadoxR/pseuds/ParadoxR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie takes a chance to improve his best friend’s mood. The chance? A gaping hole in their DHD. The mood? From a recently divorced and childless once-retired colonel. And the solution? One brilliant blonde Air Force captain. </p><p>Missing scene stand-alone for “52nd Hour”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. O'Dark Forty-Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a stand-alone within a series where Jack, Charlie, Lou, Carter, Daniel and Teal’c [“Goldie”, who doesn’t speak English] get stranded on an unknown alien planet after their escape from Chulak. Includes cursing.

Jack tosses another branch onto the low-burning fire and prods it with his roasting stick without looking. The meat had been great despite being squirrel rather than deer-ish, and he has to resist the urge to chew on the stick where it’s still flavored with the steak. All cooked to well done, unfortunately; it’s safer with alien squirrels, and besides the chewing kept him awake for his watch even after Carter, Daniel and Lou had passed out. They’re only a few yards off, close enough that he’s learned Carter doesn’t snore but far enough from the fire to be comfortable. He doesn’t really need it between the temperature and the twin moons, but it’s nice company and good to scare most predators. _Maybe._ He’s tired of that word for all the unknowns on this unknown planet. The dancing shadows keep him awake even as he avoids the flames to preserve his night vision.

He glances at Carter’s watch without hitting the light button and decides to let Lou sleep an extra hour. And Carter needs all she can get—he thinks he can give her six, though he might have to extend it with the sleep-of-the-dead thing she’s got going on. He finds himself scratching parodies of her DHD circuit diagrams in the dirt as he goes back to mentally writing his mission report. Another two hours, then.

 

Jack wakes Lou up a little after 0345 Earth time, half an hour after he decides they’re done guarding both camp and the Gate at once. If the gray-suits want to blow them up this late in the game, so be it. His people need sleep now. Jack nods to the now-awake Lou before starting the no-longer-so-pleasant hike to the Gate on utterly exhausted legs. He feels for Charlie and Goldie. Though he’s still not sure Goldie feels much of anything. The man’s deeper than he seems, but Jack’s not sure he wants to know what’s down there.

He smirks as he comes up on the Gate clearing. Carter’s circuit doodles are still visible in the moonslight despite the rather large hoof prints through them and the plasma blast marking where Charlie had caught their breakfast. Still, Jack’s not particularly looking forward to lugging it back to camp. Charlie meets his tired eyes with no fanfare, climbing to his feet as if he knows his CO is ready to end the double watches.

A sudden twinge of self-doubt hits the colonel: out of practice in the field, out of empathy for his people, out of time for his life. He tamps down on it carefully, but lets it stay smoldering a little. It’s to ward off egotism, not to keep up the ache in his heart over participating in a life so much like the one he used to live.

He meets Charlie and Goldie at the two hundred pound deer, and the two humans just kind of stare at it for a beat. They’ll need a…

It doesn’t matter how they want to carry it as Goldie hefts the entire carcass onto his shoulders and stands with barely stutter. “…Okay then.” Jack tries a smile again, but gets about the same response from the deer as from its carrier. “Thanks!”

Charlie just shakes his head, leaving Jack to wonder what their three hours were like together.

 

“So.” His 2IC starts quietly as Goldie trails them back to camp.

The CO knows his 2IC has caught onto his mood, but he doesn’t particularly want to know what his friend’ll do about it. “Sorry about the dual watches, Char.”

Jack’s not sure where his own statement came from, and by the looks of it, neither is Charlie. It was an expected move on arrival, and his best friend just shrugs. “Better safe than sorry.” Charlie confirms to his boss unnecessarily. At least, he hopes unnecessarily.

Jack knows he’s right, though it’s largely relegated to the part of the brain that doesn’t make it to colonel without the right measure of self-confidence. The rest…the rest needs to be retired right now. He exhales more loudly than he intended.

“So.” Charlie restarts without allowing his friend’s damaged psyche more time to speak. “That captain.”

Jack groans silently at the smirk playing across the younger man’s face. He should’ve seen this coming.


	2. Attitude Assessment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is absolutely going to come up in some fic set 10 years from now. It'll be $136.

“She seems nice.”

Jack’s eyes would’ve rolled if they weren’t preoccupied with their environment. “The captain’s young, Charlie.” He doesn’t emphasize her rank, but he doesn’t need to. She is young, and dangerous. _Dangerous?_ In that she wants the recognition she deserves, rather than the post she’s ready for. _That’s all?_

That’s all.

“How old do you think she is?”

“Twenty-eight.” _I can read, Charlie._

The younger man scans the next clearing and before blinking aback theatrically. “No way.”

Jack leads their hike without bothering to disturb his friend’s soliloquy. She is pretty well qualified for her age.

“Trying to make her too young for you?” Charlie smirks into his rhetorical monologue. “All women are twenty-nine these days, Jack. You should know that.”

Charlie’s pulling his leg so hard a lesser man would trip. So, logically, he’s surprised when the colonel just bites, suddenly annoyed. “You know, Charlie, considering the captain-doctor’s now saved your ass three times, you _might_ consider thinking of her as a _captain_ and/or a _doctor_.”

The admonishment pierces quietly, and Charlie looks almost chagrin for a long beat. Jack’s not quite sure who he’s admonishing.

“I do.” The major answers, letting his genuineness briefly reassert.

“Good.” The colonel ends it, suddenly finding himself tamping down on self-consciousness. Then Charlie slips into a silent discomfit and Jack kicks himself. Charlie’s always quiet in the field, but rarely silent. It’s not overly smart even in this three-man team, but it’s a relief valve Jack used to like participating in, back when he liked anything. _You’re being an ass._ Sarah would hate him.

 

Charlie studies his friend carefully out of his right peripheral vision. He’s gotten worse in the year since Abydos. His worlds had been brighter then. It wasn’t until the darkness of an Earth dive bar Charlie discovered it’d been just enough light for Jack glance into a mirror and not like what he saw.

“Wanna bet?” Charlie tries the first classic fallback in the Dealing with Jack O’Neill handbook.

Jack’s jaw twitches at the handbook user distractedly. He doesn’t bother to voice the ‘On?’

“She’s gonna say she’s twenty-nine.” It’s a loser’s bet against a CO who dissects personnel files in minutes; they both know it.

“How much?” And Jack O’Neill’s never been a man to turn down winning a loser’s bet.

“Ten?”

“Dollars?”

“Breakfast shifts.” The younger man teases customarily. To be honest, Jack’s a great field cook.

Jack’s vision jumps to his 2IC more than it should, which is to say about four degrees off his scanning pattern. Charlie flinches as his friend’s smile glazes over slightly.

“Ten’s too high, Char.”

The major shakes his head before they duck and almost crawl through a thorn bush. Jack’s ignoring the pricks on his skin as they wait for Goldie and their breakfast to emerge behind them. The large man does almost immediately, offering neither complaint nor comment. _He probably thinks you’re idiots._ Maybe they are. Jack’s grateful nod reaches its target despite all four constantly-probing eyes.

“On Earth, of course.” Charlie clarifies when he’s again comfortable with their surroundings.

“Ten’s too high, Charlie.”

His 2IC doesn’t quite stumble over the answer hanging in front of them. Jack’s not going to stick around on Earth.

It’s not that Charlie’s surprised, but the look he knows is on Jack’s face makes it so much harder. This is the first thing his best friend’s lost in years that he’s had the chance to say goodbye to. He won’t want to stick around and watch. Their deflating atmosphere settles heavily onto Charlie’s shoulders.

“Beer steaks, then.” The major offers, surprised at his own softness. _You’ll miss him._

 _…And you’re not that far behind._ Charlie’s younger, but it’s only a matter of time before his rank and body—airborne knees, like Jack—pull him out of the small-team crap his friend left behind in the Gulf. Still, Charlie wishes he could stay closer to his elder comrade. Jack’ll just go back to hiding outside DC, which will make the steaks that much harder. His colonel’s always wanted DC, despite—or rather due to—the adamant nonconformity that had lost him his chance at general’s stars.

 

Jack doesn’t accept the revised bet.

Charlie suppresses a grimace, searching for more words. Their conversation’s been stilted, and they’re within five hundred yards of camp. Charlie wishes their new alien friend had slowed down the pace even slightly under his two hundred pound carrion necklace. He doesn’t seem to notice it—or them—at all, staying at least as observant as the two humans.

The younger human struggles with how to continue. Charlie can’t see his friend’s future any more clearly than Jack must. Well, that’s not true. It’s just that Jack’s idea of a future is too dark to see.

Still, compared to where his full-bird friend would be in uniform, pulling out of retirement to become the deputy commander of a _squadron_ led by a two-stargeneral isn’t exactly striving upward. Jack had retired before his _group_ -level command billet because he’d wanted to, not because he’d had to. And his COs hadn’t wanted him to, at least not before that morning in September.

Which is exactly the thought his best friend will go home to. It’s not a future Charlie wants for him. He knows they disagree over it, but Charlie knows some of the paths out of darkness himself.

“You know, I can see it now.”

Jack doesn’t bother to prod his friend, lacking both the interest and the naivety to believe anything would keep the younger man from speaking. _You used to enjoy this._ Jack’s guileless critic reminds him internally. It doesn’t matter, though, much like everything else in that category. Right now he just wishes his 2IC was green enough to shut up.

Charlie waits a beat, looking for an opening to upset his friend’s internal dialogue. “It’s a ‘premonition’.” The major teases him à la Managua 1987.

Jack tries to ignore the joke gruffly before the immaturity of that strikes him. _He’s trying to help you, you asshole._ He lets his friend continue silently. _Actually, he’s trying to assess you._ No doubt he’s failing.

“You’re gonna live in a house.”

The tone is so surprisingly scrupulous that Jack’s snort is almost genuine. “Oh.” The colonel offers by way of theatrical compliment.

“A cabin.”

The burgeoning conversation halts immediately as all three men crouch with staffs at the ready. They’re frozen in the warm night air. Six eyes flit expertly until the redder moon illuminates the eight-foot vulture at their two o’clock. The bird’s blue eyes study them carefully. Jack shifts his weapon to silently suspend the shoot-at-will order, both out of a desire for operational silence and due to their over-abundance of meat. The creature’s almost majestic as it takes flight into the starry sky, casting them in shadow momentarily. Evidentially it’s decided that the large thing transporting their carrion breakfast is just too scary to challenge. Jack agrees.

 

Said transporter rises back to his feet without so much as a grunt. Looking at the man now under the red moonlight—their hero who’d left his entire planet behind without so much as a word—Jack has to struggle a little to remember what he’d been dismissing Charlie over.

“A log cabin.”

 _Oh, yeah, it’s that._ Jack suppresses a grimace, not particularly wanting to know where Charlie will drag the conversation, but knowing it’ll get there no matter what he does. The least he owes his friend on that journey is some sarcasm. “Now there’s a SWAG.” It’s a joke, though Charlie’s career isn’t enough like Jack’s for the former to know a _real_ Scientific Wild Ass Guess when one bites him there.

“By a pond.”

It’s another general joke, but Jack’s mind flits to across the galaxy to crash headlong into the yard of a Minnesota cabin. A gorgeous cottage where a young boy’s blue bicycle sits waiting on the front porch, blocking Jack’s reentrance forever. “You’re done talking.”

Charlie pauses momentarily, checking that his CO isn’t mission-serious despite his lack of protocol. “Right.” He’s not. Charlie curses himself. He’d offered to clean up the Minnesota cabin—there’s a pond in DC as well—but the word hadn’t gone over well. It’s not what Jack needs right now. Charlie resigns himself to talking past the misstep just as the path in front of them starts to lighten from the campfire. “With fish in it.”

Jack can see the light of the campfire now. It’s a little déjà vu, though the company’s worse. Louder. The colonel’s tired mind steps forward, picturing them walking into camp and Goldie dropping their breakfast to Lou’s pleased greeting. He pictures Charlie falling asleep immediately and not finishing this lovely ribbing session. _Yeah, right._ He pictures Lou joining it. Or Daniel waking up to it. _Or Carter._

Yeah, no.

Jack exhales and motions Goldie to go ahead of them. He watches their silent savior disappear, willing Charlie to follow and willing him to stay by Jack’s side forever. The colonel waits long enough to pretend to hear Lou’s pleased greeting.

“With her.”

Jack’s head snaps up, angered of its own volition. He and Charlie have fundamentally opposing views about this coping strategy.

 “ _Major…_ ”

Charlie thinks the glare he’s earning right now is a little too strong. “Come on, Jack, I was there when you met Sarah. And Christine, and Jess.”

Jack’s stomach roils. It must be the carrion. “Are you seriously comparing my ex-wife” _Ex-wife._ Ex-wife. _Ex-wife, Jack._ “to a twenty-eight-year-old Academy brownnoser who got us stuck on this planet without water treatment tablets?” The taste of whatever sulfur-esque fruit rind Lou boiled their water in is still haunting Jack’s mouth.

“That’s not on her.”

It’s an unnecessary answer within their exchange, and Jack doesn’t bother to reply. This is personal between the two veteran ‘snake eaters’—neither man expects the captain to perform with them, so long as she knows where her limits lie. _And, you know, saves you from dying alone out here._

Charlie doesn’t wait on the implicit agreement, keeping up his own dialogue instead. “Twenty-nine’s a good age for you right now, Jack.” And, “She’s got a thing for you.” He tags quickly before he sounds too juvenile.

“ _Major Kawalsky_.” Which is nicer than the _‘Shut the fuck up, damnit’_ Jack directs at both the major and himself internally. They’re _not_ supposed to talk about this, and Jack’s done waiting for the punchline that’d let Charlie sleep without murmuring about whatever happened in Tianjin in 1985. Or Astana in ’82.

“My _point_ ,” Charlie overemphasizes his persistence in spite of his friend’s conservatism. “Is that if Sarah had seen you two in the briefing room, you’d be sleeping in the doghouse until the captain-doctor got married.”

The commander in Jack tells him to smirk for his friend’s benefit, but his chest is blurring. He and Charlie have fundamentally different opinions on how to function after a divorce—Jack watched his friend’s rebounds firsthand four years ago. No one got too hurt then, but Jack knew the day he signed his own papers that he wouldn’t be able to say the same. _Particularly of a_ _twenty-eight-year-old veritable Ivory Tower._ Ivory at least compared to Jack’s half-baked mud brick hut. Not that he was much better baked with Sarah if he’s honest, but at least she’d…

At least she’d had Charlie.

Jack’s starting to lose it the way he does at dive bars on Earth, and the eagles on his collar just stare. He quickly discards the presence of the captain in his thoughts at all. _Screw you, Major._

 “…And you’ll have a dog.”

Jack blinks, jaw flexing. _‘I know you didn’t have a doghouse, but I’m sure Sam’s a dog person. You’ll have a dog.’_ Jack’s brain recaps his friend’s attempt at levity.

Charlie almost sags with relief as his friend’s eyes refocus. _That was close, jackass._ Charlie should’ve learned long ago that for all Jack’s scorn for subtlety, he doesn’t do well with direct challenges. Particularly romantic ones. He never had.

“Charlie,” Jack breathes evenly, and he’s back. “That’s the first sane thing you’ve said since you stopped talking.” The colonel’s smirk is an inch long and forced, but his friend’ll take it.

“A Doberman.” Jack’s not amused. “-Retriever mix.” Charlie finishes quickly. “Named Barrel.”

“ _Barrel?_ ” Jack’s breathing is still too even.

“You call him Barry.” Charlie’s proud of his guileless delivery, but to no effect. “…Wanna bet?” He tries, again.

It takes them another beat, but the silver eagles finally screech in Jack’s ear. “You want to bet me on the name of my _dog_?”

“Don’t be silly. I’m gonna get you the dog.”

“You’re going to get me the dog.” Jack repeats dumbly, only because he owes Charlie whatever punchline this is. _Astana ’87._

“As a wedding present.” Charlie’s smirk is so palpable Jack’s hand would’ve it before it hit Charlie.

 _You didn’t owe him that, the fucking asshole._ Jack mouth parts slightly, but his back is already to his friend as he stalks back to camp. _It’s a joke, Jack._ But he’s not listening to himself. _Tensions are high, Colonel; your men need to rag you._ His stalk falters slightly on the third step. He knows Charlie’s just trying to defuse the topic.

Charlie’s eyes alight on the greying hair behind his CO’s ears with surprise.

“Fifty bucks!” The major hisses over the few added feet, silently hoping it’s a steep enough price to turn the man back around.

Jack’s brow is furrowed when he turns. Dimly, he realizes Charlie can read his struggle for his normal feigned levity. “You’re gonna pay me at my funeral?” It’s not exactly a winning struggle.

Charlie tries to smirk, stepping back to him. “And you’ll pay me at your wedding.”

Jack’s practiced huff finally resets their standard atmosphere. “Well _that_ sounds fair.”

“Of, come on, Jack: only one of those things is guaranteed to happen.”

Jack breathes. Twice.

“Out of curiosity, Charlie, which of them do you think that is?” The colonel’s smile peeks through in the shadowed firelight. He’s barely managed to forget the topic their conversation.

Charlie doesn’t challenge it, having learned long ago to cut off Jack’s morbidity humor while they’re ahead. It’s a learned dance they play in these little evaluations. “Fifty dollars, compounded quarterly.” Their standard interest rate is ten percent.

“Continuously.” Jack corrects, addressing “It’s safer, hanging out with you” to Charlie’s raised eyebrows.

 _I doubt I have many quarters left._ Jack’s honesty whispers to him over the far side of his well-constructed wall. The bulwarks there are mostly shaken.

Something’ll slither through one day.

“Fine.” Charlie wants to shake on it, but Jack just looks like his duty is done.

“Fine.”

The major shakes his head at his retreating colonel. Their conversation’s quieted some of Charlie’s fears for Jack’s operational wellbeing but none of his concern about his friend’s future.


End file.
